Tell me,
my dreams,
which of you are true?
Which celestial spark points North
and leads me to my cave,
my court,
my stage?
And which is the lighthouse,
warning of the shallows
where sirens live?
Where do the rivers
of sleep lead?

In the spring of this year, I fell apart.

Some wonderful things happened. Some hard. I railed against the limitations I felt caged by. I explored ways of finding and making space.

The wheel turned, and everything changed. And nothing changed.

The trick to magical manifestation, I have always found, is to be clear on what you truly desire. When everything you’re holding together begins to fall apart, struck by lightning perhaps, you can no longer ignore the cracks. When beautiful things appear in your life they highlight the parts you’ve allowed to become stagnant.

Under the light of the stars, I find my clarity. I have stories to share, of how I became an accidental published poet, and discovered I’ve always been a Bard. I joined an Order, which makes me chuckle, and I’ve learned that I really am wired differently to the majority of people. And finally, finally, I can see a path ahead for my studies. I’ve wandered for several years without direction, buried under the weight of my thesis despite my gratitude for the opportunity. And now, perhaps, I’ve chosen a destination…

And I’ve found a way to dance again! I can no longer dance for hours every week in ATS Belly Dance, but I can strap my knees and back up (corsetry is surprisingly useful for this!), indulge in some spirits, and relax into freeform dancing as long as I listen to my body.

There is light in the darkness, always, and always more tales to tell.

I was thinking, at Druid Camp, that my initial impression of druids was not favourable.

I grew up a half hour bus journey from Avebury. When I was 18 I spent each of the 8 neo-pagan Festivals camping in Avebury. During the summer months I saw a particular group of Druids performing open, public rituals there. So far so good. Except that the leader would start with “Let’s do this quick so we can get to the pub!” and end it with “To the Pub!” with a fair amount of alcohol already having been imbibed.

I was not impressed that the ritual seemed to be done as an obligation, rather than as a devotional act, or an offering, or a joyful service, or a celebration, or whatever. It felt like a public show of “Look at us! Aren’t we great! Honouring the Old Ways ™!” getting in the way of drinking, rather than something that was important to the druids officiating.

It didn’t help that at this point I was teetotal.

Now, I’m certain it was important to them. I’m certain this was a bit of a joke, and I’m all for irreverent reverence. But when you are performing public ritual in a very public place then, surely, you have to expect that you are giving some people their first impression of pagans in general and druids in particular? Surely you need to take this into account?

For me, this was my first encounter with druids, and I was not impressed.

At one festival there was a second ritual, run by Bobcat and others (I only remembered Bobcat’s name because, well, bobcats!) which I really loved, but it was too late. I actually thought it was part of the same group. I’d dutifully attended all the rituals I came across whilst there in order to learn as much as I could. And because I’d assumed these were the same kind of practitioners – i.e. they’re all druids, right? So they’re all part of the same thing, right? – I didn’t really want to be involved in a group that had the opening and closing of a ritual revolving around getting wasted.

This is not to say I didn’t have good experiences with druids there. I had some lovely conversations. I also had some amusing ones where very high (as in stoned) druids attempted to educate me (conflating youth with inexperience – by then I’d been practising (neo)Witchcraft and magic for 7 years!).

Their case was also not helped, in my eyes, by the fact that I only saw them doing their public rituals in the summer. Now I suspect they performed their winter rituals somewhere sensible, or on a different day so I can’t really hold that against them!

The other issue were the moots. I got so frustrated at the few I attended with the lack of discussion about the things we shared in common – i.e. an interest in magic/paganism/druidry/stories/etc – and, when I asked someone if we were going to talk about anything, well, magical, their response was “Why would we talk about that? This is a moot!” And off they went to get drunk.

Anyway. The point of all this reminiscing is this: when we are out and about in a visible role as pagan, druid, witch, magic-worked or whatever, we are representatives, rightly or wrongly, of the group we present ourselves as belonging to. I was desperate for local pagans to connect with at that point in my life and could only find people who either patronised me or put me off!

For years I understood druids to be drunken show-offs who only paid lip-service to magic and the gods. Eventually I met some who clearly weren’t like that and slowly came to understand that that kind of group was a minority, though a VERY public minority.

This has me thinking about responsibility of visibility.

So should we make ourselves visible if we believe we are able to counteract some of the negative stereotypes and representations of our groups? Do we have a responsibility to provide an alternative to those who we feel are being unethical in their presentation? How? And, really, to what end?

I haven’t got answers, just ponderings. And a growing desire to offer workshops in ritual skills and ritual etiquette! But that might just be showing my Reclaiming Witchcraft roots…

Anyway. It isn’t really a problem with druids at all. It can be found in any group. The racist Heathens of the AFA are likely to drive good people away from Heathenry as a whole. Bitchy Witches can put people right off attending a moot or a gathering a second time. And I know of plenty of people who won’t come to Pagan Soc meetings because the society is made up of newbie pagans who haven’t found their feet yet, and they find it tiring/etc. So the questions are the same; What can we do about it? What should we do about it? Or is it just one of those things? And who am I to judge them for how they want to present themselves and their path?

Thankfully my impression of druids as a whole has changed… and I still love Avebury!

Before I pontificate, let me just say: Druid Camp itself was marvellous! A community of like-minded people, on many different paths, all made welcome. A sharing of magic, of song and dance and learning, delicious food, laughter and sunshine. Each morning we’d gather in Morning Meeting to hear about the offerings of the day. Each afternoon we’d gather for a talk by a prominent (usually academic) member of the community. And each evening we’d meet for ritual and then music in the cafe tent. Throughout the day volunteers would teach their skills or support the practical running of the event. Community, learning, sharing, celebrating and ritual. Magic in all it’s forms. I fully recommend it to even the just-curious as a gentle, relaxed event with plenty of space to choose what you will engage with, no pressure to know anything beforehand, and a very welcoming place which gives you the chance to meet many people on different paths.

On that note…

I’m not a Druid, not really. I’m not a member of OBOD or ADF or BDO or any other religious group with a name made of alphabet soup. I don’t introduce myself at pagan gatherings as a druid. It’s not a word or an image that resonates with me (and there is probably a good reason for that, which I’ll tell you about one day). And yet I feel very at home at the Rainbow Spirit Druid Camp.

I’ve done a fair amount of studying druidry (or at least neo-druidry, the modern pagan practice inspired by tales of ancient druids), and what I’ve found most often in recent years is that the ethics and attitudes align strongly with my own, the stories often come from the land I call home and I do love a good public ritual.

I still don’t feel like a Druid – though my path is very similar – and that’s ok.

I took an active part in the opening and closing rituals. I volunteered my time and skills to the community by working in the kid’s area. I danced to Morrigan’s Path and Hawkwind’s Nick Turner’s band Space Ritual. I was made welcome.

Part of me wonders if all that makes me a Druid in denial. But we never fit into neat little boxes, do we? I’m coming to accept that my Faery path weaves through several different groves, round the cauldron and into the wildwood. I can stand with the oaks, toast the gods, gather herbs and howl at the moon.

I often catch myself thinking that I’d like a tidy label for what I do, so I knew what I was meant to be doing, and then I remember, I know what I’m meant to be doing. I’m meant to follow the magic of my heart. The guidance of the spirits and the gods and of my deepest truest self. That’s what we’re all meant to do. For some that means finding an official path early on, for me it means that I can find myself at home in many temples. It’s an understanding that I may not be a Druid, but I’m certainly Pagan.

I recently bought black candles. This is not unusual. What makes this time notable is the look a friend gave me. A raised eyebrow, a smile both excited at the possibility of something taboo afoot and nervous that I am perhaps more wicked than I appear.

A little later the in-laws came to visit. Afterwards I remembered that the black wax, half melted, stands clearly visible on my altar and may have elicited a feeling of worry in this instance too. (True to British form, nothing was said even if it did.)

We have a pattern, a story we’ve learned, one of duality. Of Good vs Evil, of Kind vs Wicked, of light vs dark. I am a witch. I am a healer, first and foremost, – though I heal through inspiring joy and creativity (I hope) more than fixing physical ailments – which labels me a lightworker. And I honour, every day, the fertile darkness of sleep and dreams and space, and of the earth which nourishes all that we are.

The black candle on my altar is not there for wickedness, it is there for the darkness that carries the promise of light.

Back in this post I shared some questions I’ve been pondering in my development of a Faerie philosophy. I began with asking who and what the Fae might be, and, based on the approach that I take to Fae-work, the Fae are spirits. Our experience of them means that they are a real part of our world (for those of us that share our world with spirits or whose world-view allows for spirits, at least) and they exist in a world populated by spirits generally. In which case;

Is the Faery work I do (just) another form of spirit-work?

To be clear, there would be absolutely nothing wrong with this. I’m not using “just” in a derogatory way, and, in fact, it will make life easier if I am taking a simple, easily defined path.

As with most of my ponderings, however, I have to say here;

Yes and no.

These things are rarely straightforward, except that they are. Its always about relationships and how we grow within and from them.

Working with faeries is working with spirits, yes, and all that entails (learning their rules, learning how to listen/hear them, opening/closing gates, discretion, consistency, commitment, offerings, reciprocity, service, mediation…) and the way I approach Faery work is through the Path I call FeyHearted – in which we learn about our own fey nature.

If we are to work with and develop a relationship with them then we must have a strong sense of ourselves and an ability to tap into the magic in us which is akin to theirs.

Also, for me, it is about embodying the lessons they teach about creativity, connection and magic – or, put simply, Enchantment.

As a modern European, I’ve been brought up in a materialistic culture. As an academic I’ve spent a lot of time in my head. As a dancer I’ve learnt to climb back into my body and as an Enchantress – a Fae Witch – I’ve learnt to find the enchantment in the world.

Faery magic is spirit work of a particular kind, one that encourages full, embodied presence in the world and a steady, creative re-enchantment of our lives. In working with them we get bigger and clearer, rooting deep in the earth and blossoming in the sky.

Although, of course, whichever spirits you work with will change how you are in the world, won’t it? So the short answer, really, is yes. Faery work, the way I do it, is just a spirit-work with a particular branch of “nature”-based spirits.

Do you work with spirits? Do you work with Fae spirits? How does this work shape you and your life? How has it changed the way you relate to the world?

Back in this post I shared some questions I’ve been pondering in my development of a Faerie philosophy. I began with asking who and what the Fae might be, and, based on the approach that I take to Fae-work, the Fae are spirits, our experience of them mean that they are a real part of our world (for those of us that share our world with spirits or whose world-view allows for spirits, at least) and they exist in a world populated by spirits generally. In which case;

How do the Fae relate to other spirits?

(There isn’t a straightforward answer to this, really, so what follows are some of my thoughts in exploring this!)

… “Spirits” is such a broad term, and under that label of potential spirits to work with I’m including;

Ancestors and beloved dead

There are many kinds of spirits and none of them are clear-cut… it is more like finding families of related beings with similar energies and functions than defining them strictly.

Deities

Angels

Totems

Power Animals

Guides

Guardians

Genuis Locii/Spirits of a place/Landwights

and so on.

I also often include living beings on that list, mentally, as incarnate spirits. The Fae are generally not incarnate, not in this context anyway, so I’ll focus on discarnate beings for today!

When we start to explore these categories we find it gets even more complicated;

Ancestors; dead humans and other species, once incarnate, now not. You’d be hard pressed to find a tradition that doesn’t work with or honour the dead in some way.

Deities; a tricky one when it comes to definitions. Different traditions define deities rather differently, ranging from archetypes in our unconscious mind, through to independent beings with personalities and lives completely separate from ours. This is a whole branch of study in its own right, but for the purposes of this post I’ll broadly describe them as non-incarnate beings which hold more power than we do, normally linked to a particular kind of energy (eg. love, knowledge, painting, etc.) or a range of related energies. They generally have their own story/stories and manifest in various ways for different people.

Angels; cosmic messengers or intermediaries between ourselves and larger beings/powers. Normally within the Judeo-Christian traditions as I understand it, but not limited to them.

Guides; this describes a job rather than a type of spirit – i.e., a Guide is a spirit-being that has the role of guiding people in some way.

And so on…

The Fae seem to me to be most similar to Genius Locii or Landwights – spirits belonging to or expressing the Being/existence/essence of a particular place. They may be more or less approachable. Some of them act as guides. Some deities have Fae characteristics, such as Rhiannon, a magical woman of the otherworld who appears near a particular place (Gorsedd Narbeth). Faeries are not necessarily tied to a specific location, however, so perhaps some Fae are spirits of a particular place – those that are beings of particular lakes, trees, hills and so on – but others are not.

There are travelling Fae, that troop across wide areas, those that act as guides and those that live among us. Perhaps, though, they are simply connected to counties, countries, or families, rather than a single rock or tree.

The land of the Fae and the land of the dead are often seen as the same place, and often described as reachable through water or mounds, into the earth itself.

There are also stories that conflate the Faery Realm with the realm of the Dead. The Nordic myths describe Frey as the Lord of the Alfar, and the Alfar as both Elves and Ancestors. In Irish myth Faeryland and the land of the Ancestors were both called “The Summerlands”. I take connection to mean that they are a similar energetic vibration to ancestor spirits, close enough to the material realm to overlap with our existence, hence their roles as manifestations of the non-human natural world. Perhaps the Fae are the ancestral spirits of the non-human realms, as viewed through our anthro-centric filters to allow us to relate to them?

For me this all ties in with our nature as somewhat-fey, or potentially so. We are part of nature, we are domesticated, but underneath that is the wild magic. If the Fae and our ancestors are connected, that points to be to their relation to us as part of nature.

Returning to the question at hand, however, the Fae and other spirits seem to me to be parts of a spectrum. Goddesses can be Faery Queens, Faeries can be ancestors or Genius Locii or both, and so on. Although some would, many deities would not be described as Fae, even if some would… and angels generally aren’t considered to be Fae. In some of the stories of the fall of angels, however, faeries were the angels that got left behind on earth when Heaven closed its gates and Hell became full, and those angels took up residence in the land and became Faeries. So Faeries are spirits that are intimately linked to the land and the natural world. Not all spirits that match that description are faeries, but that’s a pretty good place to start.

In short, my answer to this question is that they are a type of nature spirit, and that “spirit” covers such a wide range of beings that Faeries can fit into many categories. In terms of spirit working it will be linked very much to the land, to relating to and responding to natural currents and generally working outside of strict structures that are imposed over those currents. More often than not I define some being as Fae based on a feeling, but the pattern that has emerged for me is that that feeling often links in to the “natural” or “untamed” roots of those beings, so I try to track those connections and draw a map that makes some kind of sense!

I’d love to hear your thoughts on where Faeries sit in your understanding of spirits.

Back in this post I shared some questions I’ve been pondering in my development of a Faerie philosophy. Of the questions listed I though these were a good place to start:

“Who and what are the Fae? How metaphorical are they? How metaphorical is our relationship to them?”

On the path of working with faeries, it’s useful to know what they are…

When working with faeries this is a kinda fundamental question on the one hand, and completely irrelevant on the other. My bottom line is that this work works for me, and it works best when I act as-if they are real. From a pragmatic perspective, then, I will continue to act as-if, and to believe that, faeries are literal, non-metaphorical beings.

One other thing – your mileage may well vary. Just because I encounter Faeries in this way does not mean that this is the only way of doing it, or that I’m right! Faeries are notoriously tricky to pin down. They are known for living in liminal spaces, for being betwixt and between, for leading us astray. They are perfectly capable of being kind and cruel, tangible and otherworldly, here and not both at once.

In which case – one answer to the question “what are the Fae?” is “paradoxical, illogical and variable.”

That’s not quite the kind of answer I was looking for though, so I’ll try again.

They are the magical consciousness of nature.

In the stories they are a people with a different ethic and attitude to us. Or they are creatures intent on leading us away from human civilisation. They live in wilder places than we are used to. They can offer us help and unexpected wealth. They are uncompromising when their rules are broken. They are powerful, but subject to certain rules. They are beings of the natural world, but beings with magical powers.

In which case, they are the magical consciousness of nature.

But is this just a metaphor? Are they actual beings or are they stories we tell ourselves about the natural world but actually we don’t mean it?

When we encounter anything we have an experience, which we then understand in a certain way. We hear laughter – soundwaves are generated by someone, they enter our ears and are interpreted by our brain as laughter – just as we feel that something otherworldly is at play in the depths of the wildwood. When the laughter does not come from another human but we still hear it, echoing like bells over the waves, or when we are unsettled and certain something fae is watching us, whatever the tangible facts, we are experiencing faeries. The experience is not a metaphor, it is very real.

And, as I’ve said before, when I act as-if, when I believe that something more than what I would expect is possible, magic happens. I see or hear things that don’t make sense until I tell myself the story of faeries. They are a real something, there is a reality to them, and they make the most sense to me when I approach these experiences as faeries.

If they were just metaphors, however, they’d still be useful. If I told you a tale of dryads as a metaphor for the ways in which trees communicate through fungi and care for seedlings and stumps, and if you listened to that tale and treated trees better for it, then the metaphor would have given you a healthier way of relating to the world.

This is different to saying they have a reality independent of our stories – I and others have definitely encountered something when we’ve gone looking for faeries. When I say “I’ve seen a faery.” I don’t mean I’ve seen a flower do something I can’t explain, or that I’ve run across a natural process which I’ve needed to respect according to it’s rules. I mean I’ve had an experience, a real experience, which I understand as seeing a faerie.

The have a reality which is based in our personal and direct experience and so they walk alongside us, as family.

When I say “Faery”, I’m not talking metaphorically, I really mean “Faery”, because that is how I experience them. Ultimately, there is a reality here, it is my reality, and it works for me.

And perhaps that’s part of the magic of faeries; our relationship with them, our connection to them, is inherently and essentially personal and direct. We meet them, for the most part, one-to-one. They are not distant beings directing things from afar, they are walking beside us through the woods. Those that work with us are holding our hands, tripping us up, pointing out shiny things… like cousins ready for a giggle at our expense, but also, often, ready to be our family.

In my heart of hearts, I’m a philosopher, which means that I like to have thought through logically the reasons behind my beliefs. (This is sometimes like opening Pandora’s box… so here’s a disclaimer; these are my beliefs and thoughts, so I don’t expect everyone to agree with me by any means, I’m not out to convince anyone! I do find it interesting to hear why people think and say what they do though, so let’s have a discussion!)

In my last post I talk about pondering Faery Theology (there has to be a better word for this… any ideas?) so, by way of preliminary thoughts, here is an extract from chapter 3 of my book “Pagan Portals; Your Faery Magic” wherein I ponder the nature of faeries (as I see them) and the value of working with them.

If we look at the stories of Faeries, all the myths and legends, we see a common theme; they are all very strongly connected to, or embodying, nature. They are not, however, merely the plants or trees or forces they embody, they are beings that are inherently magical, beyond limits. Faeries are natural magic and, as part of nature ourselves, the magic within us is fey.

Humans are lured into Faeryland by beauty. Beautiful music, beautiful visions, beautiful food. And this beauty, once we return to earth, we pine for. So Faeryland is that place within the world, and ourselves as part of nature, in which the sense of magic, wonder and beauty lies, the natural core of our being. The heart of the world we reach through connecting to our Faery Heart.

If our hearts, at their untamed core, are places of beauty and magic, then following the call to Faeryland will open our hearts again to the beauty of the world. If we learn to touch the fey parts of ourselves then we can move through our lives open to the beauty that surrounds us and so we can reconnect to the natural world, with the other beings on the Earth as our brothers and sisters and kin.

…

And, of course, we recall the other parts of the stories of the fae…the wilder parts…the dangerous parts… They are untamed and not human and so their ethics are a little less strict than ours tend to be. In our heart we are natural beings, just like them; we have learnt really wonderful human skills, such as compassion and language, but in our search for order we have tried to tame our essential Selves and instead we have locked them away. These parts of ourselves hurt, so each day we die a little inside.

Here we choose to walk down a path that will lead us back to the parts within us that hold who we truly are. We seek all our parts, those that are good at communication, at compassion, and those that are good at standing up for us and being free. We do not have to give up the gifts of humanity in order to find our Faery Hearts and heal our lives, we can free ourselves of those things that do not serve us, release those things that hold us back and fly, carrying both gifts of humanity and gifts of Faery. We can choose to be both human and wild. That is what it means to be fey.

Fey means free. Free of the locks we’ve used to keep ourselves acceptable and free to choose to move in compassion and beauty. Fey means to be free to be our real Selves, to live our lives without unhealthy compromises, to dance to Faery music so we are filled with love and joy and deep feelings of connection even in a business meeting or on a busy, grimy underground train.

Fey means so full of shiny, happy, beauty, that you cannot help but share it.

Faeries are the conscious manifestation of the wild magic of the natural world. At our untamed core we are also part of the world, so part of our heart belongs to the realm of Faery… in which case, those of us that find our hearts singing with that wild magic? We are Fey. And when we allow ourselves to express that magic in ourselves we feel happy and we can share that happiness with the world.

It is always important in the stories to be respectful and to cultivate a good relationship with our “Good Neighbours” with whom we share a kinship, and the stories are where we first learn how to approach this people. In the same way we must learn to respect the wild world around us, to take only what we need and not deplete the land and her resources.

Growing up I was taught that the trees are conscious and aware. I was taught that the plants have feelings which deserve to be respected. I was taught that non-human animals are people just as we are. I learnt that the world around me was alive and the spirits dwell within everything. I have to eat to survive, but that doesn’t mean I don’t need to say thank you.

We are given masks to wear in our lives, but I have seen that we are much happier when we learn who we are under the masks and choose which masks to use and which to discard… and when to cast them off entirely and dance under the starlight with our friendly cousins.*

*And it’s good to know which cousins bite, or don’t want to dance with you! You might swim in a river you know well, or cuddle your childhood canine-friend but you wouldn’t swim in a storm-tossed sea, or pick up a wild-wolf-cub with mamma wolf about to pounce, now would you? The Fae are the spirits of the wild, with all that entails.

This last year I’ve been dancing and storytelling and studying more than I have been writing.

I’ve been brewing thoughts, and allowing them to percolate. There have been many challenges, and a whirlwind of changes: Two house moves, marriage, turning 30, publishing my book, learning to dance.

My love and I now live in our own caravan! It is a static caravan rather than a mobile home like I dreamed of, but I think it’s better for us. Wales is our home and it is good to have a foundation here. Roots. I’ve been putting down roots, I suppose, choosing where I stand. Reflecting on who I am and where I am.

In my book (Pagan Portals; Your Faery Magic) I talk about some of the thinking behind my beliefs, I philosophise on Faeries and the Feyhearted Path. This is only scratching the surface though! And for a while I’ve been pondering questions, like;

Who and what is The Faery Queen – how does She relate to deities, archetypes, spirits? How does she tie in with the many goddesses that hold the title Faery Queen? She isn’t an archetype, though “Faery Queen” is also an archetype… so what is She? How does she manifest throughout the year? Does she change or it is constant… and what does that mean for her nature?

Who and what is the Faery King? Am I just falling back on my early neo-Wiccan reading when I want to bring Him in too? (Most of the books I got hold of when young and just finding my way were neo-Wiccan, and many of the books I see now are heavily influenced by that, whilst it can be a very useful structure, I don’t want to force energies and beings into a pattern that doesn’t serve them, or me, so what patterns belong to them?) Or is there a good reason for bringing Him in explicitly? (Aside from the fact that he turns up! But just because they come, does that mean we should work together?)

How do these powers/beings/deities(?) relate to deities that share the titles which seems to be their names?

How does this Enchantressing path relate to the Craft? To Priestessing? What are the differences? How do they overlap? Are they all words for the same thing or distinct practices?

How does my work fit within historical practices and traditions? What is my “lineage”? I’m clearly deeply rooted in neo-pagan structures, practices and attitudes, but that isn’t the only influence. And what does it all mean?

And so on… Alongside continuing practice I’ve been mulling theory, and I’m feeling the urge to start sharing again. I make no promises on how much or how often I’ll post, but I hope that some of these questions are interesting to you, and perhaps you can take them and apply them to your own practices and beliefs for an interesting think! (If you enjoy that kind of thing… not everyone does!)

It being Imbolc over the next few days it feels good to be seeing the seedlings sprout and these questions begin to find the light of day. My Queen wears white now, as do many goddesses at this time of year, and she beckons for us to awaken to ourselves and dance among the snowdrops and hailstones as the light grows and the land begins to stir.

I’ve written before about how much the Tribal Belly dancing means to me… and it continues to be a source of strength and joy.

At the Winter Solstice we danced for the Cellan Beer Festival, and then last weekend was a Hafla (a belly dance party) in Cardigan run by local dancers. It was so nice to see the other groups dancing and experience the atmosphere of a supportive dance party. One lady did her very first solo, to very summery music, with the happiest expression!

One of the things that has come home to me about dancing ATS(r) with Tribal Unity is how much of a group activity it is. We are all working together, all supporting each other. It is not a solo performance, we thrive when we dance in tune with each other. I’ve never really felt at home in all female groups, but there is something about this dance (and the people in our little family) that breaks down the competitiveness that I’ve seen elsewhere and encourages mutual support. We all look out for each other and are thinking of each other when we dance.

The Hafla was a couple of firsts for me, as well as for the group. It was the first time we’d performed to live drums and the first time I’d led in public. It was the first fast duet I’d done (and it was VERY fast) and our first hafla. Watching over the videos I can see how much we’ve improved since last summer, how much more in tune with each other we are, and how much we all enjoy it! You can also very definitely see how happy I am dancing.